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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23063002">and if you could, i'm sure you would</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruuhroh/pseuds/ruuhroh'>ruuhroh</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Birthday Sex, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Richie's birthday, Top Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:35:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,987</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23063002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruuhroh/pseuds/ruuhroh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddie was standing there in the entrance of the little mudroom, barefoot and apparently also pantless, his black peacoat wrapped around him, brushing just past his thighs. Richie stares for a moment, breaking the eye contact to toe-off his shoes, Eddie clears his throat and Richie looks back up. </p><p>Neither of them says anything and Eddie clears his throat again, a white-knuckled grip on the coat, “Happy Birthday, Rich.” The coat slides open and Richie finds his mouth suddenly bone dry, swallowing harshly.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>333</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and if you could, i'm sure you would</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>pure pwp for richie's birthday that is also late!!</p><p>absolutely unbeta'd. i'm bad at writing, please don't yell at me.</p><p>come holler at me on twitter instead @ruuhroh.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This year, Richie was </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have a good birthday. This was the first year, his 42nd birthday, where he and Eddie were officially a couple. Eddie had obviously missed his fortieth birthday, considering they had all forgotten each other those twenty-some years between people moving out of Derry and leaving for college. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After killing IT for a second time and during Eddie’s recovery, they had celebrated Eddie’s fortieth in his hospital room in September (and then his official separation). Of course, by the time Richie’s forty-first birthday crept up, he and Eddie were still dancing around each other. They had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>moment </span>
  </em>
  <span>during New Years where Richie really thought he was about to kiss Eddie at the ball drop, but he had chickened out and pressed a messy, wet kiss against Eddie’s cheek, lips sticky from the too sweet, fruity cocktails Bev had kept plying him with. By the time March had rolled around Richie had been ready to jump out of his skin with how much had built up inside of him. He was in California while Eddie was back in New York. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eddie had called him at 9 PM PST, on March 6th, to wish him Happy Birthday because </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was midnight in New York, therefore Richie’s birthday. Most of the Losers lived closer to the West Coast, except for Mike, but he was in central time. Richie remembers suddenly wanting so badly to be able to touch Eddie, not in any sexual way, but the urge to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>hold</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie in his arms as tight as he could. He hadn’t been able to sleep that night, bed too cold and empty. Instead, he’d downed several fingers of bourbon and drunkenly came out on twitter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His forty-first birthday sucked the worst. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But </span>
  <em>
    <span>now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now Richie and Eddie were official, like officially official, like Richie posted snapchats of Eddie and him doing dumb couple things or posted disgustingly sappy shit like ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so lucky :)</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ on Instagram with a photo of Eddie flipping him off. They’d had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>come to Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span> moment in May, multiple declarations of love and Eddie uprooting his entire life in New York to move to LA. They’d celebrated Eddie’s forty-first birthday together, Richie pulling out all the stops, wining and dining his new beau. So, Richie assumed it was going to be the same for his forty-second. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or it </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> have been. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m really sorry,” Eddie says, voice slightly tinny through the phone, “I have a lot on my plate and my boss wants us to all work overtime.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Richie sighs, picking at the fraying edges of his shirt as he nods at Eddie’s apologies. They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have a short workday, maybe fuck around at home before eventually leaving to go to a nice dinner with the other Losers. Instead, Eddie was skipping all of that, Richie knew “overtime” meant Eddie wouldn’t be home till </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least</span>
  </em>
  <span> 10. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While normally that might not have been an issue, however, between his late nights writing new comedy material and his severe bouts of insomnia— it would be an issue. This was supposed to be their night off. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> whines a little, trying not to pout because part of him feels like throwing a tantrum. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s my birthday! </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wants to yell into the phone, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck Eddie’s job</span>
  </em>
  <span>! But he’s technically forty-two now, it would be very unbecoming, or some shit like that. Instead, he pouts and goes “oooookay,” like his friend John does sometimes. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I’m sorry, baby,” Eddie says softly, voice slightly muffled which means he’s in public and trying to not be too PDA-y. (Is it PDA if they’re on the phone? Richie wonders), “I promise I’ll make it up to you, we’ll go out to the place you like, okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Richie responds positively and Eddie seems to deflate over the phone, they say their ‘I love you’s’ and their goodbyes before Richie makes a fart noise and drops his phone onto the couch. Well, so much for those plans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After two hours of dicking around, he finally musters up the energy to shower and get ready for dinner with the other Losers. As bummed as he was about Eddie missing the dinner, it’d be a dick move to miss with the others, considering they flew out from all over to see him. Even Patty had shown up with Stan and like hell Richie was going to miss bugging the shit out of Stan in front of his extremely lovely wife. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all meet at some nice restaurant, all getting beers, happily eating and stealing off each other’s plates. It’s lighthearted and fun and it makes Richie ache a little that Eddie wasn’t here to enjoy it with them. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Richie’s on his second glass of beer, maybe a quarter of the way through before Bev suddenly places her hand on top of it as he goes to bring it for another sip. “I think you’ve had enough,” Bev says quietly, quirking an eyebrow at Richie, which only serves to confuse him more. He looks over at Bill and Mike who immediately move their eyes back to their own dishes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan sighs loudly, grabbing his beer and downing the rest in a way that proves to Richie he </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>have gone to keggers in college because no fucking man who swallowed down at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>a 20oz beer in all of three seconds hadn’t. He looks so annoyed already that Richie </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stan, are you and the missus having trouble?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up, trashmouth.” Stan fucking glowers and it sends both Richie and Patty into a fit of laughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bev puts a hand on Richie’s shoulder to interject, “Richie, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>go home.” She’s being cryptic and weird and it starts to make Richie nervous, did something happen? Was his house on fire or something? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okaaaay,” Richie sing songs, reaching to pull out his wallet to throw a couple of bills down to help for the dinner, Mike and Ben both make an </span>
  <em>
    <span>ah! </span>
  </em>
  <span>sound that startles everyone and Richie pockets his wallet and holds his hands up in peace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All five of the other Losers and Patty hug Richie, wishing him happy birthdays again as he leaves, Richie giving them a two-finger salute as he heads out to his car. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His phone vibrates and Richie pulls it out his phone, face slackening with affection once he realizes it’s from Eddie. It has scarily accurate timing, considering he just walked out of the bar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>— Are you on your way home?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Richie types back quickly, writing that he’s on the road (he’s not) and he’ll be home soon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>— Don’t fucking text and drive dickhead. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>— Text me when you get home. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One might think it lame, but Richie can’t help the happy sigh at Eddie’s text, in regular talk it might seem mean, rude even. However, Richie was well versed in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spaghetti </span>
  </em>
  <span>talk, the text meant ‘be safe, I love you’. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shakes away the dopey expression on his face, starting the car and taking off towards home, already ready to face plant into his bed and jerk off until he passes out. Or maybe Eddie will show up and they can have a sexy jerk off session and Richie can snuggle right up to Eddie and sleep. What was it that one of his twitter users had said that made him laugh?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tiddy in hand, dick on ass, good night. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That would be a hell of a night, in Richie’s opinion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s confused, however, when he pulls up to his house and Eddie’s car is parked in the driveway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Must’ve come home early instead! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richie thinks, whistling to himself as he twirls the keys and walks down the walkway to the front door. The minute he’s unlocked the door and starts to open it, he hears Eddie’s muffled yell coming through, a quick “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” that has Richie pausing, the door half open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, Eds?” He calls back, brows furrowed as he leans his ear close to the opening. There was the sound of Eddie padding around near the kitchen before he let out a loud ‘okay’ and Richie pushed the door open fully and stepped inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eddie was standing there in the entrance of the little mudroom, barefoot and apparently also pantless, his black peacoat wrapped around him, brushing just past his thighs. Richie stares for a moment, breaking the eye contact to toe-off his shoes, Eddie clears his throat and Richie looks back up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither of them says anything and Eddie clears his throat again, a white-knuckled grip on the coat, “Happy Birthday, Rich.” The coat slides open and Richie finds his mouth suddenly bone dry, swallowing harshly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His boyfriend is standing in the doorway, peacoat opening to a flash of baby blue lace. Eddie’s face is a bright red, the flush crawling down his neck to his chest, snug lacey, baby blue panties (?) sit snug on his hips, the sides tapering to thinner blue lace as they lead to his ass and Richie wishes he could see what they look like behind. There’s two thin straps that lead to crisscrossing lacey (Richie assumes) elastic bands wrapped tight around Eddie’s thighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Richie stupidly points to himself, “me?” he questions, which causes Eddie to flush even harder as he yells back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, for fucking Bill, yes, for you dickhead.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Richie groans, shrugging off his jacket as he takes a couple of large strides before he reaches Eddie, hands pushing at the coat to shove it off his shoulders. Once Eddie’s arms are free, his hands cup at Richie’s face, pulling him down into a wet, blindingly-hot kiss. Richie can’t help but sigh into the kiss, hands sliding down from the hot stretch of Eddie’s back, all smooth skin and strong muscles nestled underneath. His fingers dip down further and pulls back to moan loudly, fingers brushing against a line of pearls dipping into the cleft of Eddie’s ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, baby, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Richie asks again, licking into Eddie’s mouth, eating the whimper that leaks out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday, asshole,” Eddie exhales hotly, arching and pressing his ass back into Richie’s hands. Fingers curling and fisting into Richie’s shirt, wrinkling the fabric further. Richie huffs as he pulls away, taking a step back, as far as he could with Eddie’s grasp on his shirt, to take in his boyfriend’s look. They’re both at least half-hard, the light blue fabric straining against Eddie’s cock and it makes Richie’s mouth water. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s only a brief pause before Richie pulls himself out of Eddie’s grasp, bending down at his knees to haul Eddie up against his shoulder, hands palming at his bare ass as he takes off in a half-run towards their bedroom. Eddie squawks, slapping a hand down against Richie’s back, squirming slightly before finally stilling in his grasp. The trip back to their bedroom is mostly uneventful, it’s not far considering the master bedroom is on the first floor, something Richie had originally thought was really fucking stupid when they first moved in, but now is proving useful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He practically throws Eddie onto the bed, gleefully watching his boyfriend bounce a bit on the mattress, Eddie opens his mouth to complain but Richie is pulling his shirt off and Eddie goes quiet, shuffling up to the pillows and getting comfortable. Richie makes quick work on the rest of his clothing, shirt, pants, and briefs in a pile on the floor before he’s crawling onto the bed and onto Eddie. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Richie groans, hands spreading over every inch of bare skin of Eddie’s body, fingers trace along his rib bones down to the soft skin on his stomach, barely hiding defined muscles underneath. “You’re so fucking sexy, Eddie, I cannot believe you did this for my fucking birthday, you’re a fucking wet dream come true, baby.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thumbs dip into the pronounced V of his hips and Eddie shudders at the touch, eyes boring holes into Richie’s hands as they settle close to the straps of the thong, lace sheer and a darker blue where he’s been straining and leaking precum since their little front door session. Richie leans down to kiss wetly at his sternum, dipping down lower, tongue tracing a middle line down to dip slightly in his bellybutton. Eddie swears, fingers digging into the comforter, hips jolting up as Richie continues his path down, mouthing wetly over the lace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>tease</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rich,” Eddie’s voice is a sob, one hand coming up to tangle into the thick curls on Richie’s head, “I’m already… I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>ready</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That brings a long, stretched out groan out of Richie, crawling back up Eddie’s body (not without giving one of his nipples a little smooch) to kiss him. As much as he would love to just pull the thong aside and maybe lick into Eddie and open him up with his tongue and spit, it’ll have to be another time, he’s too wound up and the string nestled in the cleft of Eddie’s ass is decorated in pearls, making it harder to pull aside. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Together, they make quick work of the thong, Richie taking his time dragging the lace and elastic and pearls down Eddie’s thickly muscled thighs, over his calves before tossing them back in a general direction. Those thighs fall open and Richie nearly fucking loses it right then and there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’mon Rich, fuck me.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Richie makes a </span>
  <em>
    <span>guh</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound, reaching out for the lube and slicking two fingers up, trailing a wet streak down his thigh as he brushes his fingers between Eddie’s ass. They go in far too easily and Richie just sucks in a breath at the realization that not only had Eddie put on sexy ass lingerie, but he had also </span>
  <em>
    <span>fingered </span>
  </em>
  <span>himself open before Richie had gotten home. “Fuck, Eddie, are you even for real right now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t necessarily unusual for Eddie to maybe finger himself open, but it was usually more of a tease to Richie, to wind him up. But Eddie was slick and pliant here, stretched open and ready. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands shake slightly as he grabs at the lube again, Eddie quickly taking it from him, slicking up his hand and reaching down to stroke at Richie’s cock. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>enough to set Richie off, almost. “C’mon baby, don’t you want your present?” Eddie teases, not gripping tight enough to give Richie any real friction, just a tease. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden the hand is gone and Eddie leans back again against the pillows, shuffling down slightly so could extend his hand against the headboard, both legs draped over Richie’s thighs. It only takes a moment longer before Richie is pressing inside, Richie has to pause for a brief second, feeling like he’s about to blow if he moves at all. Eddie is so goddamn warm and soft inside, a tight grip on his cock, nothing between them except for the slick slide of lube. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sex with Eddie was always good, always so sweet that it left a sugary, sticky taste inside his mouth hours after. This time was no exception, except there was an extra piece to it that had Richie feeling like there was an inferno growing inside of him. Maybe it was the fact that it was his birthday and Eddie was </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or maybe it was because Eddie had specifically done something to surprise him. Maybe it was just a hot combination of everything, the preparation, the display, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His fingers slip a little against the sweat-slick skin of Eddie’s hips, the soft squelch of the excess lube as he fucks into his boyfriend, and fuck, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>sight </span>
  </em>
  <span>that is laid out before him, Eddie looking at him with kiss swollen red lips and Richie thinks he could come right then and there from the sight alone. Eddie reaches up, palming at Richie’s shoulders before dragging his blunt fingernails down his back and Richie is arching his back and thrusting in harder, a small guttural groan following. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Richie knows he won’t last much longer and by Eddie’s increasingly higher pitched gasps, he won’t last much longer either. He means to reach down and stroke Eddie’s cock, to get him off before he does, gripping his waist before sliding down to thumb into the V indent of his hips, squeezing and Eddie’s clenching down on him, body a vice grip against his cock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eddie is usually quiet, maybe a soft groan, or a tiny gasp, it’s enough to drive Richie wild though, like a sexy vow of silence that he hopes to break one day, and he guesses for his birthday he did break it. This time he shudders through his orgasm, untouched except for Richie digging his fingers into hips, thumbs pressing marks closer to his groin, Eddie lets out a choking gasp before a long sucking gasp that’s louder than Richie’s ever heard him get. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>delectable</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shivers and pulsing rhythmic clench of Eddie’s body drives Richie to his own end, fucking his hips up into Eddie as tightly as he can as he shudders through his own release. “Fuck me,” he groans out softly, reaching up to straighten his glasses that have somehow miraculously stayed on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eddie runs one of his hands down Richie’s flank then back up, curling his fingers back into his sweaty mop of hair to pull him back down for a wet, lingering kiss. “S’good?” Eddie slurs out, clearly fucked boneless as he doesn’t make much of a complaint when Richie eventually pulls out and flops dramatically onto him, ignoring the mess between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fucking fantastic, happy fucking birthday to me. God, I fucking love you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a pause before Eddie replies, the fingers that had been tangling into his hair moving to curl against the nape of his neck, a tiny chuckle as Eddie parrots him, “yeah, happy fucking birthday, love you too, asshole.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it really fucking was. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
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